


Everything Casts A Shadow

by nightships



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Battle of Hogwarts AU, Deathly Hallows AU, F/M, Final battle AU, Mentor Snape, Post-Order of the Phoenix AU, Redeemed Draco, Ron and Draco are friends, Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 13:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3731161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightships/pseuds/nightships
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy turned his back on Voldemort and his family to become a spy for the Light. Once there, he finds aid and purpose in unlikely places. As the Dark Lord's swan song ends, Draco wonders if good things truly do come out of the dark. Based on the poem "The Detail of the Woods" by Richard Siken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything Casts A Shadow

 

* * *

_I looked at all the trees and didn't know what to do._

_A box made out of leaves._  
_What else was in the woods? A heart, closing. Nevertheless._

* * *

"You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery." Draco slowed as the Dark Lord's voice passed across the cold grounds of Hogwarts. From his hiding spot, Draco could see Death Eaters and Order members turning their heads to listen, to locate the source. There was no booming echo of noise; Voldemort's words wrapped around them as if he was only a few meters away — he could be waiting behind the fallen trees, behind the ruined colonnades, behind anyone's right shoulder. Draco tried to stay alert as the voice continued to speak.

"...you have sustained heavy losses..."

Bodies littered the steep hills near the castle. Muddy rivers of blood were trickling from the mouths and hands of several students, and Draco could barely stand the stench. One body he passed was covered in splinters of dark wood, stuck several inches deep like a porcupine's quills. Another had no limbs at all.

"...every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste."

He gagged then, and caught the root of an upturned tree to balance himself. Where was Professor Snape? Was the Order's plan proceeding as it was supposed to? He wiped the cold sweat from his lip and straightened up. Draco could barely keep himself from counting bodies and abandoning everything to search for a brown plait of hair.

"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest."

Death Eaters began to retreat confidently towards the entrance hall of Hogwarts. Draco watched as several of them staggered among the rubble, some of them kicking at the bodies in the grass. He bit his tongue until he tasted metal, and began to walk along the tree line. If he was seen waiting, it could ruin everything.

"...if, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then the battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour." The Dark Lord's voice ceased, and the students and teachers of Hogwarts began to gather themselves together.

Draco willed his feet to move, but he found it hard to find stable ground. Perhaps he was dizzy, and perhaps the ground was uneven. He couldn't see to tell the difference. No stars shone above Hogwarts that night, and he wouldn't dare to risk his position by using wand light. Draco had been given an old wand to use — one of the older Weasleys had found it in the drawers at Grimmauld Place, and it barely trusted him.

The others had done their best to train with him and learn — he knew several of the tactics the Death Eaters used, and it was stupid to miss an opportunity to practice — but his new wand had taken to firing malicious spells at anyone it deemed worthy of pain. Fred and George had joked that it didn't like his change of heart. "Must have been one of old Granny Black's," they'd said with a laugh. "You've been magically grounded."

Still, Draco felt better with his hand wrapped firmly around the black walnut wand as he walked. It allowed him a decent shred of false security, which was better than none at all. He crept nearer to the Black Lake and the boat docks, wand in hand and heart stuttering in protest.

* * *

_Everyone needs a place. It shouldn't be inside of someone else._  
_I kept my mind on the moon. Cold moon, long nights moon.  
_From the landscape: a sense of scale._  
_From the dead: a sense of scale.__

* * *

Slinking between the thin arms of the willows, Draco found his way to the edge of the boat shed. It was completely silent around him except for the rhythmic knock of oars against wood. Draco welcomed the smell of mildew as he quietly walked inside, but another familiar smell hit his nostrils as his eyes strained in the dark. Blood.

Draco couldn't move. The still form of Severus Snape's body lay in ribbons on the floor of the shack, his chest bloody and punctured. His eyes were colder and emptier than anything Draco had ever seen, and it looked as though he'd been crying. So it's been done, Draco thought. He willed himself not to cry and vomit as he stared down at his professor, mentor and savior. It had been Snape who first showed him there was another way to survive the war. It was Snape who helped him to approach the Order of the Phoenix without raising suspicion. Snape taught him both Legilimency and Occlumency to defend his mind against his family, especially his deranged aunt.

Severus Snape's last sacrifice had been made, and it meant that Draco, for now, was safe.

A short while ago, during one of the Order's last meetings with Draco and Severus together, they had learned of a flaw in the Dark Lord's plan — a flaw Harry planned to exploit. Months of careful work had gone into securing the Elder Wand for Draco, which, in turn, put it in the hands of Professor Snape. It was another reason Draco's new wand refused to obey him; it could sense the allegiance of the Elder Wand still belonged to the Malfoy heir and refused to share obedience. He and Snape had argued for hours after it was decided that Snape would die as the wand passed to Voldemort. Now, as the moon made an appearance in the night, Draco wished he had voiced a true apology.

He hated how the time for displaying sympathies in war kept slipping through his fingers.

Draco finally turned away from Professor Snape's body, unable to do anything else until the battle was over. He stared at the slivers of moonlight peeking through the willow leaves as he exited the boat shed, wiping tears away with dirty hands. He thought about Snape's reason's for fighting and how they mirrored his own, and tried to shield himself from the bitter cold of the Dementors swarming kilometers above him.

How much time had passed since Voldemort's announcement had been made? Draco wondered how long it would take for him to get to the castle; he wondered how many lives he could try to save before an hour was through. Draco wondered if Harry would make his way to the place where the Dark Lord waited, in the shadows of the deadly forest. Surely he would want to kill Harry publicly, Draco thought. What little he had learned from Death Eater meetings told him that Voldemort would want Harry's death to be a spectacle.

Draco stopped himself short. There was nothing to be gained by thinking about what failure would bring; failure was part of his old life. Here, even in the middle of the night where carnage and death reigned, Draco had people who still cared if he lasted the night, no matter what his blood legacy was. Draco had people who trusted him, who proved to him that failure didn't matter as long as he was trying. Like his wand, it terrified him, but he wasn't alone.

He let his mind turn to a girl who was living proof that strength came from the power of trying. He remembered the day Hermione Granger first spoke to him in Grimmauld Place; she told him about a cruel boy whose harsh remarks made her work to be the top student in class. She said he seemed lonely, like most bullies do. She said in a strange way, all the meanness and cruelty he ever threw at her made her who she was.

"Good things come out of the dark. Just look at you." She'd gone to bed right afterwards. He'd wanted to march after her and tell her she didn't know him because he knew she was right, but he wanted to argue. He didn't think he could add friendly conversations with Hermione Granger to the ever-growing list of everything else he'd been preparing to do.

She'd turned out of the dilapidated kitchen quickly, her loose braid bouncing off her shoulders. When she was gone, he'd pulled the left sleeve of his shirt above his elbow and stared at his Dark Mark. He'd traced it with two fingers and spent the rest of the night thinking about first year, when he offered Harry Potter his hand to shake. It wasn't anything like what she'd just done, he thought.

* * *

_I turned my back on the story. A sense of superiority._  
_Everything casts a shadow._

* * *

An hour had come and gone, and Draco was ready to give everything up. There was no sight of Harry or Voldemort. He'd kept a careful eye on the forest in vain; there'd been no light passing through the dark branches. Draco's restless heart wanted to run, to fight, to defend the people he cared for while they were still alive. Dawn was approaching swiftly, and Hogwarts was quiet and cold as it waited for Harry's return. Most of the dead had been gathered up and carried into the Great Hall, where professors and students continued to bandage and heal what wounds they could.

Then, a sudden small procession made its way to the once-mighty doors of Hogwarts Castle. Hagrid, the blubbering half-giant, carried a dark, lifeless form in his enormous hands.

The rest of the student body swarmed outside as Harry Potter's dead body was presented to the students. Voldemort strode proudly, flanked by Bellatrix and other elite Death Eaters who had been present for Harry's death. Draco held a breath as his aunt cackled and spun with glee. A great divide formed in the courtyard between the Light and the Dark, and Draco moved to hide himself between the students.

It was then that he saw her. A messy braid atop a dirty hood and jacket; Hermione Granger was alive and meters from him. Reflexively Draco's weight shifted forward as he made to stand next to her, and he stopped himself just as quickly. Being closer to her does not mean you can better protect her, he reminded himself. She stood surrounded by the Weasleys; the mere sight of her filled him with memories.

He remembered being terrified when he came downstairs and found her asleep on top of a book. Nobody was supposed to be downstairs at that hour and yet there she was, stuck to the pages. He didn't know how to deal with company during his first days. He'd turned and dashed right back upstairs, afraid of what might happen if she woke up and suspected him of malicious behavior.

He remembered coming downstairs a few days later with his own book and sitting across from her. She was awake then, and she didn't say a word as they both researched horcruxes into the early morning. He remembered the first "please" she drew out of his mouth when he'd been sent out on a mission with Professor Snape. There was the look in her eyes as she nodded in reply, and the touch of her hand on his sleeve as she did so.

And he remembered the way her name — and then her lips — felt on his mouth when he came back safely. His heart stuttered weakly and his hands shook as he touched her hair, her shoulders, her collarbone. Nevermind that his wand didn't trust him, Draco could survive on this alone.

Neither Ron nor Harry nor any of the Order had attacked him in the night and ordered him to stay away from her. No one had pushed him up against the wall and held him by his neck, demanding he leave. Professor Snape was the only one who cornered him, and it was several nights later when they were alone.

"Selfish boy," Snape drew back and stood tall above Draco. "When the Dark Lord calls and your family makes their decision, will yours change? Have you prepared for every possible future? Haven't you learned  _anything_  about containing your emotions?" He spat the last line and Draco just stared ahead, awaiting the slap to his face, the curse to his chest, or a combination of the two.

Snape turned to leave him alone, which was worse than the rest. "Prepare to sacrifice everything, or you will not survive this war, no matter who remains standing when it ends."

Draco stared at Hermione as Hagrid gently placed Harry's body before them, and remembered the way she'd taught him that sacrifice did not always mean loss. He planned to stand his ground long after Harry woke up.

* * *

_Your body told me in a dream it's never been afraid of anything._

* * *

Dawn rose as Harry Potter did. Draco saw the rage in Voldemort's eyes as Harry listed every flaw in the Dark Lord's plan — wands, dark magic and placing faith in the wrong people. Severus Snape was never his, and neither was Draco Malfoy. He felt his ears burning as the entire courtyard turned to face him in the crowd; he could not bring himself to look at Hermione or his parents. At least now, his mother would know he was alive. He considered the knowledge to be a parting gift to his parents, for he would not set foot in Malfoy Manor again. It had long since ceased to be his home. Someone, rather than something, had taken its place.

Harry Potter and Tom Marvolo Riddle — Lord Voldemort was no longer anything but human, having been rid of every horcrux he'd ever made — fought valiantly, and for the last time. It was the earth-shattering, public duel that Lord Voldemort had wanted. Not a soul spoke except for Harry, who asked Voldemort to consider the impossible and feel remorse for his actions. In the end, Tom Riddle's body fell to the ground with the same thud so many before him had made.

There were no sides to choose among the survivors, so Draco stood alone within the castle's entryway. He stared at the giant House hourglasses and the piles of jewels they once held, scattered on the floor. Emerald mixed with gold, sapphire and ruby in here, too. Some were broken, some chipped, but they shone brightly in the morning light that came through the windows.

He then found his legs carrying him without provocation, steering him toward Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood. They sat with some of the less-wounded students, and pointed him outside to the bridge. They even accepted his thanks without surprise. Draco watched from the castle doors as Harry snapped the Elder Wand in half, tossing it into the ravine below.

Hermione must have felt his gaze on her back then, because she turned around and met his gaze immediately. She started walking slowly at first — maybe it only seemed that way because she was so far from him. After what seemed like half a century, she made it to the entryway where he stood and threw her arms around his neck.

"I had a dream about you," she cried softly into his shoulder as he cradled her head. "You told me you left me a box in the woods, and you'd placed your heart inside. You said you weren't afraid anymore, and you left. You walked away from me and you weren't coming back." He held her tightly, carefully trying to avoid her many cuts and bruises. She cried and laughed as he held her.

He pushed her dirty hair behind her ear and pressed kisses into the crown of her head, embracing her fiercely. He met Ron and Harry's eyes briefly and nodded to them as they waited close by. He looked her in the eyes again, remembering.

"You're the one who told me good things come out of the dark, Granger," he said, letting a little drawl into his voice to put her at ease. She looked like she could use it. He smirked down at her and the smile she gave him in return was enough to last him a lifetime. He wiped at the tears in the corners of her eyes, took her hand in his and knotted their fingers together. They turned and made their way to where Harry and Ron stood waiting. From there, the four of them watched the sun rise on a world forever freed from darkness.


End file.
